


Honey, I'm Home

by CosmicMind



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Past Lives, Pre-TF2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 15:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicMind/pseuds/CosmicMind
Summary: The year is 1942. A young man returns home to his lover in the middle of a snow storm.





	Honey, I'm Home

**Author's Note:**

> Spy's name is Jacques, and Scout's mom's name is Grace. Set before Scout was even conceived.

Snow swirled and whirled through the windy night, leaving behind a thick sheet of white residue across the world. Lights from the nearby cityscape were flashing and bustling, however, the streets of suburban Boston were quiet with the spell of slumber. All that remained was a single pickup truck driving down the road, snow crunching in its wake as it slowed to a stop.

 

The house the truck stopped at was common in appearance to the other surrounding lower income homes in the area- a one-level home that was only mostly recovered from the depression, judging by the chipping paint, and one window boarded up from a baseball accident during the fall. The front sidewalk was salted and cleared from the falling snow, but the rest of the yard was buried under the weather.

 

A young man by the name of Jacques stepped out of the truck and stood on the icy ground with wobbly legs. Calling him “messy” would be a compliment- he looked like he just picked a fight with every angry thug in the surrounding area. His eyes carried heavy bags, and his brown hair was frazzled and drooped down his face. He lost his suit coat some time ago, and the button up shirt and vest he did have on were untucked, hanging down his torso in all its wrinkled glory.

 

Jacques sighed as he looked at the house before him. He told grace it was only going to be a few days, as always. He promised to call her the second he stepped back onto American soil, like always. He would be fine, like always.

 

But this wasn’t like always, and he wasn’t fine. The mission itself only took a week and a half leading up to when Jacques slit the fat bastard’s throat in his sleep, but a nosy maid just happened to be walking by the room and alerted half the country to go after him.

 

His employers managed to get him on a jet out of the country in time, though once again, they don’t tell him things, because that jet dropped him off in the middle of Norway with only his wallet, his intellect, and a pair of warm clothes. Days of hitchhiking and getting by with the most fluent Norwegian he could produce ensued until he reached Sweden.

 

Once again, luck wasn’t on his side. Even when he was physically and mentally exhausted from days of being stuck in a foreign country on his feet, the only flights that were available were to eastern New York. The most comfort he had in four days was being able to sleep on that crowded plane in the uncomfortable seat, but once he was in America he was back to hitchhiking. He hopped from car to car for another two days before finally reaching his destination, and now he could barely stand up in the snow right now due to his total of two hours of sleep then.

 

“Thank you, my friend,” Jacques, said to the truck driver over his shoulder in a fake Boston accent, “You’ve been a life saver.”

 

“No problem,” the burly man in the driver’s seat said, “Hope your mother isn’t too mad at you coming this late.”

 

“My moth... yes, she will be fine,” Jacques lied, “I just could not bear to be away from her when she’s sick.”

 

“Take care,” the driver replied, lighting up a cigarette as he drove off into the night. Jacques stared as the truck disappeared down the road before sighing. The simpleton actually believed his story and accent, and how Jacques explained his disheveled appearance by saying he came straight from work, but his car was broken to drive himself. Then again, his whole job relied on the power of persuasion, so he ought to be good at it.

 

He gently opened and closed the fence gate as he trudged up to the front door. Grace would probably be asleep by now, so he could crawl into that nice warm bed and deal with her ranting in the morning with how long it’s been. Breathing in and out, he carefully unlocked the door with the key under the mat and creaked it open.

 

Initially, it was pitch black inside the living room he entered. The house was spotless, as to be expected for a house of seven boys and a single mother- they needed all the space they could get. Jacques quietly wipes his filthy and wet shoes on the mat and set them beside the now closed front door. As he did so, he didn’t even notice the light pouring in from the nearby kitchen due to how tired he was.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin and went into attack mode when someone appeared in the door frame of the kitchen, the footsteps giving it away. There, standing in her night robe and slippers with her jet-black hair down, was Grace. She held her hand on her hip and an annoyed scowl on her lips.

 

“You’re late,” she said in her thick Boston accent as Jacques was still frozen in mid-shoe removal.

 

“I… Grace, I…” he stammered, hopping on one foot until his shoe came off. He nearly lost his balance from how exhausted he was but managed to catch himself on the arm of the couch. Grace rushed over to him to help him stand, though her expression was now hard to read. It was now more neutral than anything, and that worried Jacques. Despite his worry, he fell into her arms and could only rest his head on her shoulder, too tired to lift his arms into a hug or bring his face into a kiss.

 

“Oh, pumpkin…” Grace sighed as she rubbed into his back gently, “C’mon, let’s get you a bath. You stink.” With one arm around Jacques’ waist and Jacques putting an arm around her shoulders, Grace helped Jacques to the small bathroom. She helped Jacques remove his clothing and threw it into the laundry bin nearby as Jacques sat on the toilet, unable to bear standing up any longer. He continued to sit there as Grace filled up the tub with hot water, both not speaking to one another.

 

Once the tubbed was filled, Grace eased her lover into the water while holding his arm, so he didn’t lose his balance again. The sensation of the bath was heavenly against Jacques’ tired body, getting into his various scrapes and bruises he accumulated lately. He groaned as he let the warmth consume him and he leaned back until only his head was above the water.

 

Grace began to pick up Jacques’ various limp limbs and scrub them gently with a bar of soap, taking extra care to the cuts. The scabbed wounds and black bruises stung against the newfound touch, but it ultimately felt refreshing.

 

He allowed his head to loll off the back on the tub edge before Grace took that into her hands as well, but this time to wash his hair. She gently scrubbed away days of grease and grime from his thick hair. Her long fingernails added an extra layer of pleasure as they scratched his scalp, like a back scratcher for his head. Despite Grace being here and doing work on him, Jacques was only half awake for this whole experience.

 

Eventually, Grace stood back up and rolled her robe sleeves back down and dropping the bar of soap into the water. “I’ll let you wash your junk on your own,” she said, “Come down when you’re done, and _don’t_ fall asleep on me in here. Last thing I want is havin’ you drownin’.”

 

The door shut gently behind her, leaving Jacques alone with his thoughts. He let the bar of cheap white soap float in the water in front of him, watching it bob up and down aimlessly to the ripples of the water.

 

Jacques sank down until his nose was just above the water. In a way, perhaps that soap was like himself. Floating through life with no control over where you go or what you do, and only moving when others move you. Jacques had been in this business since the second they pulled him off the streets before he grew his first facial hair. He hasn’t had control for the past near two decades and having any in future would be a cruel joke. Being dedicated to becoming the best of the best in his profession was all he knew.

 

At least, not until he met Grace. Oh, she came in like a comet from a distant galaxy and swept him right off his feet. A chance meeting at a diner where she worked was all he needed to know she was the one. Fiery and fierce, they both were. They were young and reckless, and Jacques had no time to think of the future or the past, only the moments he spent with her.

 

But he never told Grace about his work. In all honestly, he probably never could. If she knew who employed him to assassinate folks from all corners of the globe, she and her children would surely be killed. Jacques shuddered at the thought. It was best if she remained ignorant and safe, even if she did seem to know he was doing something slightly illegal.

 

Jacques brought his head back fully to the surface and closed his eyes. No, she can’t know.

 

“Jacques?” a knocking came calling from the other side of the bathroom door, “You’ve been in there for thirty minutes. You alright?”

 

Jacques opened his eyes and groaned from exhaustion. “ _Oui_ ,” he mumbled.

 

Apparently, this was enough for an invitation to let Grace in. She stepped back inside the bathroom with a clean change of pajamas- _his_ pajamas- in her arms. Yet again without a word, Grace assisted him back out of the bath and into his clean clothes, taking extra care with his battered form like she was handling fine china. Together they limped back to Grace’s bedroom.

 

Grace’s bedroom was a decade behind in décor aesthetic, but it was still as warm and inviting as ever. Her waitress uniform hung up on the closet door, and her secretary blazer was hung on the bedroom door knob, but other than that the room was extremely tidy. All her various perfumes and makeup lined her dresser, which sat beneath a large mirror facing the bed.

 

Grace was moving to helped Jacques sit down, but Jacques’ body had other plans. He escaped Grace’s grip and fell face first onto the mattress with only half of his body on the bed. The feeling of a warm bed after so long felt like heaven, and he had no plans of moving soon.

 

Grace sighed and shook her head but climbed onto the bed as well. Making herself comfortable at the head of the bed, she patted her lap.

 

“C’mere, sugah,” she beckoned, “Crawl yourself over here.”

 

Jacques groaned into the quilted cover. “Non,” he muttered, “Gravity is too much. This is where I die.”

 

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Grace scoffed, “C’mon. I promise it’ll be better if you move.”

 

“I am comfortable ‘ere.”

 

Grace raised an eyebrow, and Jacques didn’t even have to move his head to know that she was doing so- her doubtful glare radiated beyond sight. Jacques pulled himself across the mattress with frail arms until he was perpendicular to Grace. He rested his weary head on her lap, taking in the scent of her freshly washed pajamas as Grace raked her fingers through his still wet hair. The dim lamp on the bedside table gave the room a comforting orange glow as the snow swirling outside the window.

 

“You coulda told me where you were,” Grace said quietly as she pet Jacques’ head.

 

“ _Ma chérie,_ ” Jacques replied, “I ‘ave no control over this. You know this.”

 

“Of course, I do,” Grace affirmed, sighing once more, “I just… I was worried ya left me. Ran off with some other foreign chick with bigger breasts.”

 

Jacques turned his head to look into Grace’s tired eyes. “You think I would leave you? ‘ave you no faith in our love?”

 

“N-No, that’s not, that’s not what I… I just wish I could know where ya were. Every time you leave, feels like you’re gone for longer, and come back with more bruises. I dunno when the last time I get to say goodbye will be.”

 

“I’m a good worker,” Jacques claimed, “I always come ‘ome to you. I do not make mistakes.”

 

“But what if you do?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“ _Oui_.”

 

“Really? I don’t believe you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you said it’d be two days last time. Two days became two weeks. How do I know that ‘coming back soon’ won’t become ‘coming back never’?”

 

Jacques opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he realized no reply would come out. He turned his head back to the side. “I don’t know,” he said.

 

Grace stopped petting Jacques’ hair. “Jacques, I’ve done as you asked for months,” she lamented,’ “I don’t ask about your work or nothin’; I trust you know what you’re doin’ and are trying to protect me. But I still worry. Just wanna know what’s goin’ on with you. Wish you could tell me.”

 

Jacques closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Me too,” he exhaled.

 

Within two minutes, he fell into a deep slumber, and Grace re-positioned him to properly be in bed before crawling under the covers herself. She turned off the lamp and pulled Jacques close, taking in the heat on his pale skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Come bother me @motel-hario on tumblr


End file.
